


Ringtone

by RissiUniverse



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Blood, Blood and Injury, College, Conspiracy, Conspiracy Theories, Corpses, Dead People, Dreamsharing, Gen, Inspired by Music, Intentional 'Mistake', LITERALLY, Mild Gore, Mild Language, Murder, POV Killer, POV Male Character, POV Third Person, Passive-aggression, Power Outage, Pre-Invasion, Short Story, Skeletons In The Closet, Some Plot, Trapped In A Closet, Violence, Visions in dreams, disclaimer i am not in physical college yet so sorry, i think, lmfao i cant take this seriously
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:00:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26677087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RissiUniverse/pseuds/RissiUniverse
Summary: Killer just knew Aliens were real. The idea of aliens might have originally come from whack-jobs, nutcases, and weirdos all alike, but the word Alien has shifted to something different, now. Aliens are murderers; hidden, possibly in plain sight. Killer suspected they weren't even from this world, which is why they're called Aliens, but he doesn't care what they're called. He just wants people to accept him.For years, no on believed him that the person who attacked him was an Alien. They called him crazy. Disbelieving? That's the real crime.Then, finally, someone gives him a chance to prove himself. Someone finally reaches out to him to help give him a voice.But his plans were changed. That's fine, since he never cared about people, anyway.Fic inspired by the song Touch-Tone Telephone by Lemon Demon.
Relationships: Nightmare & Killer
Comments: 3
Kudos: 11





	Ringtone

**Author's Note:**

> This story is uh, not very traditional. (I don't have very good ideas.) It's just a lil' something I wanted to enjoy writing, and did! So I hope you enjoy reading it. By not traditional, I mean there's stuff that's not expected. Example: Killer is a published author and conspiracy theorist. Random stuff like that, so don't be surprised if that kind of stuff happens. It's just a simple story that wasn't meant to amount to much. Again, hope you enjoy it.
> 
> Also, just to clarify, the _publisher_ Nightmare is uncorrupted. The rest will fall into place.

“There are Aliens among us! Every one of you!” 

The crowd shuffles past him, some of them rolling their eyes and dragging their children away, muttering words of comfort and distraction. Other people spit on the ground beneath Killer’s feet as he speaks. 

“You have to believe me. _I’ve seen them._ You think you’re safe, but you’re not. They’re REAL,” Killer protests, shamelessly continuing his rant as he always has. He won’t give up. He’s determined to change these people’s minds, to change their hardened hearts, for them to realize he was right all along. He wants to inform these ignorant people… but they won’t listen. “I saw the Alien right before my very eyes, and I didn’t even think I would survive. I thought I would die. But you know what? I obviously lived to tell the tale!” He preached. “I saw it! He was a skeleton just like me, except he had a huge hole in his head and a single glowing red eye in the dead of night!” 

  
  


The incident would have been downright terrifying to most, but to Killer, it was simply thrilling. Actually coming across something that wasn’t even considered real—and he had actually _seen_ it! It wasn’t a dream! The gash in his shoulder he received from the alien’s weapon proved it! He clearly remembered going to the hospital to treat it, grinning madly, eyes wide despite the pain shooting through his shoulder. He was right! Finally! He had to tell everyone. 

But they never believed him. None of them did. 

He remembered that day clearly. 

  
  
  


He was in college at the time. It was the end of the school day. Killer was bored, tapping his pencil against the desk lightly, only paying half attention to the drones of the professor speaking. Thinking some about the video game he had planned when he got home after getting to work and doing his shift of more flipping burgers. 

Then, the thought of Chara, his co-worker, crossed his mind. They told him about the conspiracy going around that people have been disappearing from the city but the government has been covering it up. It’s alleged that these people were kidnapped and murdered, but the government blames the global power outages that have been occurring again and again. Killer’s city was one of the biggest—and the city experiencing most of these power outages, supposed kidnappings, and supposed murderers behind these calculated attacks. Killer wasn’t sure how much he believed it, but deep down he knew something was going on that the government was not being entirely truthful about. It wasn’t his place to question it, though, he was fine with passing it off. As long as he sticks with the crowd, he won’t be in danger. Strength in numbers. And… not to flex, but Killer was pretty skilled in self defense and fighting in general when it came to it, and his magic allowed him to summon useful objects such as pencils, knives, and other similar objects, which he could use for his defense if necessary. So it didn’t matter. 

Another power outage. Normally these outages were spaced out… four months apart at least. It had only been two weeks since the last one. Suspicious, but most likely coincidental. 

Killer flinched, not at all expecting the lights to suddenly go out. As usual, some girl screamed, and another person quieted her. The students, by protocol, stood up, set their items down and moved collectively to the doors to leave. Killer decided to take his phone with him just in case, though. 

The young adult held his normally lax expression on his face as he moved behind the girl that normally sat next to him, idly thinking back to the video game, only for his mind to immediately switch to the thought of those supposed ‘Alien’ attacks, as Chara claimed people were calling them. Killer snorted, holding in a snicker. The girl in front of him glanced back but quickly looked forward again, obviously questioning his seriousness. Killer had none of that. She didn’t know that, though, so that wasn’t her fault. 

With the teacher, they moved forward and exited the class and moved down the hallway. All of them remained silent. There were repercussions for those who didn’t, and they were quickly shushed as soon as they made a noise. Killer had to refrain from humming; keeping this all in mind as he moved forward with his class. 

He decided he wanted to stay in the building instead of going outside of the building, just because of some silly power outage. Killer glanced at his professor. He was turned away. He smiled. He knew a closet room with cleaning supplies was just around the corner. So he stepped out of line, and carefully backed up, moving to the end of the line. The person at the end glanced a look at him, but simply shrugged and kept moving. 

When his chance came, Killer took the opportunity to try the door handle. Luckily—it must have been left unlocked, he opened the door and quickly squeezed through, holding the door close to shut so as to not make any noise. When the sounds of footsteps of his classmates faded, he snickered quietly, shutting the door fully and turning around, but as soon as he did, he froze. His metaphorical blood ran cold. 

Right before him was a corpse. A fresh one, too. He could see it despite the darkness in the room. It didn’t look mutilated, but the poor guy was missing the lower part of his left arm, from what Killer could determine in the dark. It seemed like there was a slash across his back and he flopped over, or was stuffed lazily into this closet. That much Killer would expect to be true. 

Surprisingly, Killer was almost unfazed. Shocked, yes, but he was almost intrigued that someone was truly murdered here. Perhaps the outage wasn’t even accidental; this one—it had to be—was forced to happen. The murderer knew these outages were happening and played it off; used it to their advantage. _Maybe even an Alien,_ he thought impulsively. _No,_ he countered, shaking it off and dismissing it. 

He had to leave, though. If he stayed with the body, the murderer could come back to finish the job, and then find Killer, a witness of this. He didn’t want to die. Yes, he wanted to check it out, but he did have video game plans. At least he wouldn’t die a virgin, though. Killer snorted, turning around, opening the door. Another reason he didn’t want to stick around was because he didn’t want to get caught with the body by someone other than the murderer, that would just make it seem like he himself did it when he obviously didn’t. He pushed open the door, glanced both ways, and upon seeing no one, he huffed out a sigh and stepped out of the closet. His fingertips brushed against the door, but before he could reach for the handle and turn back, he felt a hand over his mouth and one on his shoulder, pulling him back harshly. The door shut in front of him with no one to control it he thought, but he didn’t get any confirmation. Instinctively he tried to bite down on the hand over his mouth, but the person holding him seemed undeterred. That was when he took his self-defense lessons to good use, managing to get out of the strong hold of whoever was trying to keep him in the closet. He didn’t have time to think about it. He only had time to get moving out of their grasp; question it later. 

Managing to escape, Killer whipped around and reached for the door, but froze. The person standing over the body, ominously watching him, was a skeleton with a crater in his skull. Along with one glowing red eye. The pupil was huge and seemed to drench his socket. In the darkness, it was the only source of light. Killer’s eyes widened slightly. “Oh God,” he whispered. He shook his head, trying the door handle, surprised the killer wasn’t trying to reach him, just standing over the body and staring at him. It was locked?? He looked down, and he tried to unlock it from inside, but he couldn’t. It was jammed. 

He was stuck with the murderer and the dead body. 

Killer gulped. _This is how I die. I died because I was idiotic enough to think this wasn’t a big deal. I was a hot shot, and I took safety in numbers for granted. I’m going to die,_ he thought to himself, eyes leveled yet his head was spinning with all the thoughts that burst through his skull. _He’s going to kill me._ He stared at the killer, who was moving closer to him, edging toward him, knowing he couldn’t escape even if he wanted to. Fighting against him in the corner didn’t occur to him, he was too frozen in place. 

“Make it quick,” Killer said hoarsely, a lodge in his throat forming. “Make it painless.” 

The murderer chuckled. He shuffled closer to him. His deep voice struck at Killer as odd, but… the voice was gruff and nowhere close to soothing, especially not in this situation. “Sorry… buddy. Boss won’t be allowing tha’… Hate to burst your bubble,” he replied. 

Killer’s eyes widened at that, choking out, “‘Boss’—?!” He wasn’t even capable of questioning what the murderer meant before he felt a shooting pain through his shoulder and screamed as loudly as possible. It wasn’t much of the pain that made him scream. He screamed to be heard. His metaphorical heart was beating a mile a minute, adrenaline pumping through him—he was sure the pain would be much worse later… if he was still alive by then. 

The murderer haphazardly hacked at his shoulder with an axe and pulled the weapon out, not even bothering to shut Killer up. Killer couldn’t help but be curious, though, despite the situation. The realization of things being connected all came together as he realized that Chara was right, these attacks _were_ Alien attacks. “Oh my God you’re an Alien, aren’t you!? You’re an Alien just like Chara said! You’re going to kill me and the government will just brush my death over!” He blurted, a white pupil briefly shown in his right socket before briskly diminishing. He started grinning. It was all real. He knew it. He just knew it. 

The skeleton remained silent, simply brandishing the axe in his hands, not even concerned by the fact Killer was grinning in a life or death situation such as this one. To Killer, it almost seemed like he wasn’t quite used to the axe, but Killer wasn’t sure. It also didn’t matter. The killer raised the axe up. Killer’s eyes widened as he held his gaze on the axe, the hope seeping out of him quickly like pus from a wound and grin faltering. Still the corner of his mouth suggested a smile. He couldn’t help it. All of this paranormal stuff… it was all true, and he was about to die at the hands of it. An ultimate death. Unnatural, just as himself. It was truly fitting. 

However right before the axe could swing down, the skeleton stopped, holding it above Killer. His red eye darted to the side, looking just above Killer. Killer shivered. The skeleton held absolutely perfectly still, cold as stone, listening. Then he grunted, opening the door, which was now suddenly unlocked, forcing Killer to tumble backward. In quick relief, he pushed himself back against the opposite wall. He was intrigued by the Alien, yes, but that didn’t mean he valued his life any less. 

“You’re an Alien,” he murmured. The nameless skeleton smirked, closing the door. Killer held his arm, feeling the blood seep through his shirt and move down his arm, bleeding onto his hands. The lights eventually turned on again. A few minutes later, he heard the chatter of casual banter from the students as they shuffled through the halls and back to class. 

Someone let out a cry as someone ran up to him. It must have been a student, and the professor ducking to their knees to see Killer, covering their mouth as they gasped. “What in God’s name—!?” 

“The murderer. He’s behind that closet door,” Killer interjected bluntly. “He’s an Alien. I know it.” 

The professor furrowed their brows, glancing at the door and then back at Killer. “There’s a _killer_ behind that closet door?” 

Killer nodded. “Yup. Other than me,” he joked. 

The professor chuckled nervously, ignoring the joke about his name and replying, “Hahaha… Oh my God. We need to call the police immediately.” She pulled out her phone and started dialing 911. 

“Don’t bother.” 

The professor hit Call and put the phone to her ear, giving Killer a stern look. “ … And _why not?_ ” 

“He’s an Alien. If he could have gotten to the power and caused the outage, then he could have easily gotten from one place to another, especially with magic being a possibility with the magic blockers turned off along with the power. He’s gone now,” Killer explained. 

The professor looked grim, and also concerned that Killer was taking a conspiracy seriously. “I’m still calling the paramedics for you.” 

Killer blinked. He forgot about the pain running through his arm. It was easier with his apathy of such things. “Oh, right.” Killer glanced back at the door, staring at it for a heartbeat. “There’s also a dead body in that closet… but it’s too late for the poor guy. The killer got to him first. He’s as dead as a door nail, I’m sure of it.” 

The professor just stared at Killer as if he had grown two heads. 

  
  
  


Occasionally, as Killer would speak and preach and share his conspiracies, he’d get a few curious people, and that left a couple who were interested, only to hear his story and move away, thinking he was a nutcase. They told him he was crazy, they said he was mad. They insulted him, spat on him, criticized him. But he took it all. He had to forgive them. They would all find out soon enough. 

He was before his time. People in the future would have him in history books, teaching their students how Killer was one of the few who truly believed Aliens were real and preached about it. They would teach those surviving generations how Killer had saved their kind from the attacks of these Aliens. Killer’s plastered grin curled slightly at the thought as he beamed with pride. “You all will know soon! The Aliens will give their biggest attack. They’re right under our noses, hiding in plain sight,” Killer continued loudly, grinning. “They’re going to kill us all, and you won’t even see it coming.” 

“Yeah, yeah, sure, and I’m an octopus,” a monster said to him, grumbling. Some type of bear. He walked past Killer, rolling his eyes. 

Killer stared at his back, smiling, saying nothing. He decided that was enough for today. He needed to get back home to do work and get back to the novel he was writing, and call that talk show host again to try and get him to give him a chance to speak about his conspiracy theories to the public. He needed the exposure for his ideas to spread, to at least a couple of other people. From there, it could spread even further. One person at a time. Killer had all the time in the world, too. He had his whole life to dedicate it. 

He _knew_ it was an Alien that had nearly tried to kill him. He knew he wasn’t the only survivor, there just had to be others… right? These Aliens may be cunning, but they’re bound to make mistakes, just as they had with Killer. He knew they had to have made the same mistake with at least one other person. 

  
  


Killer has had dreams ever since that night as well. The Aliens visited him in his sleep. The one that attacked him was on the sidelines, but the main guy, the “boss” … Killer didn’t even know his name, but he was covered in a goopy substance, tentacles protruding from his back, looming behind him and twitching. That single teal eye bore into Killer. Beside him was a black and white skeleton and one with multi-colored pupils with a dusty jacket. 

One theme he noticed with all of these Aliens: all skeletons. Though, the boss was sure to let it “slip” that there were others with them. He explained to Killer that they were all collectively from different universes. He was the leader, he claimed, and he was planning on causing chaos and destruction, one step at a time, one attack at a time. 

Instead of feeling fear, Killer felt euphoria. He was right. He knew it all along. 

This dream almost seemed so real, based on the fact that when Killer woke up in his bed, he clearly remembered having the ability to see his hands, something you can’t do in dreams. It frightened him at first, but then he laughed. They truly do have power over people… but he had no idea why they gave him this information. They didn’t want to be caught! 

Killer would tell people about this, tell them the Aliens’ plans, but they’d laugh and tell him he was insane. This concept normally was the last straw for interested people, they couldn’t take it seriously that he thought the dream was reality and was caused directly by the aliens. People were just so stubborn. 

They told him it wasn’t “substantial evidence.” It was evidence enough! He could see his hands! 

Why couldn’t anyone believe him? 

  
  


When Killer got home, he sat down on his small house’s couch. He let the phone ring. For once, the host picked up the phone with the first call. “Hey there! Talk show host Robert speaking. How may I help you?” 

“Hey, it’s me, Killer,” Killer greeted. “So… how’s the spot for my talk going?” 

The man hummed over the phone. There was silence for a moment. “Oh! Right! Your spot!” Killer heard shuffling papers and then the clicking of keys. “Right. No, we’re not open for one any time soon, someone took the spot I was going to give you. Sorry, pal! I’ll remember next time, I’m sure.” 

He said that the last six times—Killer counted. He sighed glumly, hanging up. He couldn’t take it anymore. “He’s not going to remember, is he?” He asked himself, mumbling. Resigned, he stood up to get to his laptop. “I’m done with him and his bullshit. He’s just leading me on, only to forget about me, not even bothering to at least _try_ to remember me. He can’t take me seriously. None of them can,” he rambled, opening the laptop and logging in. Then, he had an idea. “If ‘Robert’ can’t take me seriously… maybe someone I would least expect would.” 

He went online, and tried his best to contact as many people as possible, all shooting the same email, changing a few things every now and then. He even sent one to Nightmare—a known publisher who released fashion articles. If he can just convince him to get an ad for him… promote his website. He would be thrilled, but he knew Nightmare wouldn’t. He saw what the ads were already like. He wouldn’t get accepted, but… part of him really hoped he would. He had to hope. It was the only thing he had left. 

Killer had looked up to Nightmare somewhat, too. He wouldn’t be crushed if Nightmare rejected him, but he would definitely be euphoric if he accepted—something Killer was rarely with his permanent apathy. Someone popular, successful, and best of all, pro LGBTQ+… He was accepting and caring of his fans and maybe he would be accepting of Killer, too. He didn’t release those designs attempting to be gender strict. He released those designs for everyone to wear; no exceptions. That’s what Killer loved about him. He wanted to be like that. Killer had fans, but majority of them were… odd, to say the least, and he found it hard to interact with them, yet Nightmare did it so easily and flawlessly. He wished he could do that. 

The skeleton shook his head. Now wasn’t the time to think about Nightmare. He had to finish sending those emails. Though, the thought did cross his mind that he found it ironic that as an author he could have been reaching out to people to advertise his book—but rather he was wanting exposure for his conspiracy theories instead. It was a thought that made Killer laugh as he continued sending those useless and unnoticed emails. 

All of those emails were overlooked or brushed under the rug or straight up harshly rejected, except one. 

**Author's Note:**

> Let's be real, Killer claims he's believed all along, but he was pretty much denying it more than accepting it at the beginning. Just passing it off. He doesn't care about the technicalities, though, so I just though I'd clarify that, haha.   
> Another thing: they're called 'Aliens' 'cause they're not from this universe. They're not really green with big eyes or anything because technically an alien could be as small as a bug from another country getting to one it doesn't belong, or something like that. Again I'm sorry it's weird. It just means they don't belong there. 
> 
> Sorry for the weird story- I don't have anything else to write about other than one or two oneshots I keep procrastinating.


End file.
